can you believe we're still talking about the final trump. well mom lives in trumplandia and who am i to talk i'm living in obamalandia we're both surrounded. the calls are funny in a dire way. i said we went to do a test drive on the stick shift to the graveyard and she said is that still there? i thought they dug that up. she thought the obama complex was built on a graveyard. i tell her it was another graveyard. she needs to talk about trump but idle know what to say, it's all like a bad dream. i feel i'm in a dreamworld i say. she says i wish i could say that. she has bad insomnia. i don't mean sleep i say. oh she says you have insomnia too? she doesn't talk about the end times anymore. now i do.

and that's the way it goes on sunday around dusk with the throbbing music echoing up from the train embankment and the looming thunderstorm held in strange abeyance.